


The Five Steps of Anger Management – by Isaac Lahey

by RhysLahey



Series: Scisaac short fics [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anger, Because there had to be a better way of finding the nemeton, Character Study, Fixing the end of S3A, Friends to Lovers, Isaac Lahey & Scott McCall Friendship, Isaac-centric, M/M, POV First Person, Scisaac Week 2020, no more ice baths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26873002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhysLahey/pseuds/RhysLahey
Summary: Hello, I’m Isaac Lahey; I’m a fellow student at Beacon Hills High, and I have anger issues. There you go. I said it. If I managed to get better, I'm sure you will be able to. Maybe my story will help get some perspective on your anger? PS: Stay away from my boyfriend.
Relationships: Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall
Series: Scisaac short fics [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960519
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23
Collections: Scisaac Week





	The Five Steps of Anger Management – by Isaac Lahey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [penink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/penink/gifts).



> This is a surprise present for penink, who has written one of the best character studies on Isaac I've read and the most delightful and slowest slow-burn scisaac fic, which I adore. Go read all her fics. And I'm sorry this is not the Isaac and Romy detective squad plus Mi6 placement I might have mentioned, but that is still an idea that may one day happen.
> 
> As always, my crappy writing would be even more incomprehensible without the help of i_dont_want_to_tell_you_my_name, who has endured my many versions of my stories!

## 1\. Admit that you are angry

Hey! I’m sure we’ve probably met, but I bet you don’t know much about me. That’s partly my fault, because I spent half of my childhood in a freezer (literally), so interacting at school has never been my forte. Whatever Stiles says (yeah, I know; you probably know Stiles because he’s the annoying loudmouth son of the Sheriff who drives that blue accident about to happen), I am _not_ milking that, and I mention it because it’s just my unhealthy way of coping. Don’t judge me, that’s just rude.

But let’s start again. Hello, I’m Isaac Lahey; I’m a fellow student at Beacon Hills High, and I have anger issues. There you go. I said it.

You might be wondering why that is relevant at all, but if you had spent a second reading the title of my story, you’d have seen that this is my five-step system to deal with anger. I’ll admit that putting it into five lame steps is an idea that I got from Google, but it actually summarises very well how I’ve learnt to improve my anger issues.

Here is where I warn you that I am just a junior, and definitely not a psychologist. I’m not giving you the full answer to your anger problems, but maybe my story will help you improve. That’s the only thing I can promise. I’d like to think I can be helpful like that. Because nobody wants to be angry all the time. It just causes trouble. I mean, at one point I did not care at all, and when Derek bit me (oh, yeah, FYI: I’m also a werewolf, but this is Beacon Hills, so I’m very sure you already had a suspicion that the supernatural was real – it’s not as if we are subtle) I was happy to snap and claw and punch. That is, I was until the day I really felt a connection with Scott McCall.

Yeah, I bet you know Scott too. He’s the super-hot and super-cute, dark-haired dork who’s also the star of the lacrosse team. The one with the brown eyes and the slightly odd jaw. You’ve _definitely_ seen him around. In fact, the blond lanky guy latched to him is me. I never said anything about not being a possessive boyfriend, so stay away from him.

Scott and I had been… well… We were teammates first. I often got to play, but he had asthma, so he hardly ever did more than warming the bench. We were not really friends, but at least we knew each other from lacrosse. Then I got bitten. Actually, he was bitten first, so when I turned he was already a werewolf. But our dynamics changed after that and he, like, actually began to pay attention to me?

Having Scott acknowledging me beyond lacrosse was nice, especially considering that I did not have many friends back then, but at that point I was high on werewolf power and did not reciprocate his attention. I don’t know if you’re a werewolf too (and if you are, how come I don’t know you?), but the thrilling rush of power that you feel with the bite is… whoa. It’s _amazing_. I mean, at that point I was a fugitive, because I was the main suspect for my dad’s death (it was not me, though!) and Derek was lodging Erica, me and Boyd in an old train depot, and I did not care _because I was a frigging werewolf!_ How cool was that?

Soon, however, I began to see that Derek did not have the best intentions in mind (he seemed desperate to turn us into an army) and that his teaching skills were poor to say the least (if I wanted to ‘learn lessons’ by having my arm broken, I’d have stayed with my dad). About the same time, Scott began to show real worry and concern, and not just about what we might have done to his friends – but about me! That had _never_ happened before with anyone, and I was completely dumbstruck. I still can remember how he told me to take care because he did not want _me_ to get hurt. He said that even if Derek asked Erica and me to rough him up. If I’m honest, something short-circuited in my brain and my stomach did a funny flip at that moment. I also wanted to die out of pure embarrassment (and I’ve apologised a gazillion times, but he always tells me it’s okay, like the amazing boyfriend I don’t deserve that he is).

That one moment taught me that I really wanted someone like him in my life, and I was happy just to be friends (because there was no way on Earth Scott McCall would ever consider me in any other way), so when Erica and Boyd considered abandoning Derek and fleeing Beacon Hills I went back to Scott to ask him for his advice. You know Scott, so you know he always wants to do the right thing; he’s a little hero like that. Eventually I decided to stay and fight. I stayed for Scott and to win the lacrosse game, and to help Derek (in that particular order).

That evening soon ended up in chaos, though, with Jackson dying and evolving into something big and evil, Scott’s ex stabbing me repeatedly with knives, and Gerard having an evil master plan to be turned into a werewolf to cure his cancer. Thankfully, Scott had planned in advance to poison the asshole with wolfsbane, because otherwise he would have surely killed Derek there and then, and I’m sure I would not be here telling you this story.

Anyway, I remember that at that moment Scott had already seen his mother threatened by Gerard (twice) while Jackson (who had turned into a lean, mean, lizard-scaled killing machine) was coiling his grimy tail around Allison’s neck. I don’t know how he kept his cool. I don’t know how he found the strength to stick to his plan. I am sure that in that situation I would have lashed forward to rip Gerard’s smug grin off his face with my claws, but that would not have worked. I’d have been killed, and the same would have happened to Derek and Allison and Erica and Boyd. And Scott. But he did it. Somehow he fucking did it!

I wanted to be more like Scott. I also really wanted to be his friend. But I could not do it if I was angry. 

## 2\. Believe you can control your anger

Knowing that I had to change was definitely a big step. It was not easy getting there, but once I realised it, it sort of became obvious? Like, _dude_ , you should know that already. I’m sure I knew that being angry was not good in general, but realising that it was not the way forward is something different. Matter of perspective I suppose. Picturing myself in the situation Scott had been in definitely gave a different perspective.

So, during that summer, I tried to do my best to become a better werewolf. Derek was relentless with his yada yada about the alpha pack coming for us and had me learning combat skills. The fact that Erica and Boyd had disappeared (kidnapped by the alphas) definitely put some fire in my belly to up my game, but using anger and hatred as an anchor and motivation (in the way Derek did), was _not_ my way forward.

I often found myself thinking ‘what would Scott do?’. Even if he had admitted that most of the time he did not know what he was doing, he at least had a different attitude, one I really liked. That is why whenever I could (whenever Derek didn’t have me scouting for Erica and Boyd or moving furniture to the loft) I tried to go and see Scott. It was difficult to get hold of Scott during the summer, because he was busy with school and reading and doing homework, but I always found ways of seeing him every now and then. This mostly involved manoeuvring Stiles away and accompanying Scott to the animal clinic where he worked, but I was happy to see him for those short bits. We just talked about nothing, and laughed and had a great time really. He always rang me the evening before the full moon to make sure I was going to be okay. I want to believe we really got to be friends then.

In sum, by the end of the summer, when I had my memories stolen by the crazy alpha pack and was rescued by Braeden (the really badass mercenary hired by our French teacher), Scott was my werewolf emergency contact. When I landed in the hospital after the rescue, I had to tell Mrs McCall to call Derek, knowing well that Derek would not answer because it felt weird asking her to call her son first.

As you can imagine, that was only the first step of the supernatural shitstorm that followed (I’m sure you remember; it was when every other day a teacher was found ritually sacrificed). Creepy ex-alpha Peter forcing his way into my memories with his dirty claws was not enough, _apparently_ , because I then had to go into a near-death ice bath. Thank fuck Scott was there with me, because I don’t know what I would have done if he had not been there when I found out that Erica was dead.

Things only got worse after that.

Boyd and Cora were alive, true, but Derek was increasingly paranoid about the alpha pack. Of course, then it turned out that two of them had actually transferred to our school. I saw the twins in the preserve when we were about to go on a cross-country race, walking around, sneering, looking at me knowing that I _knew_. Until then my ‘what would Scott do?’ mantra had been fine, but when push came to shove, when those two murderous bastards turned up, I saw red. I did not care if there were two of them. I chased after them. I chased and then lost them, which is when I felt my anger being actively cooled down by more logical thoughts like ‘what are you going to do now, dumbass?’ and ‘well done, Lahey’. The fact that Tweedledee and Tweedledum snuck from behind and pinned me to the ground snapped me out of my thoughts, and thank God Scott turned up to save me (like the knight in shiny werewolf armour he is), because it was looking pretty nasty.

Our little encounter had to be cut short when a dead body was found in the preserve, but I was still convinced that killing the two arseholes was the way forward. I didn’t care for Stiles’ odd theories about human sacrifices (and I will never admit to his face that eventually he was proven right). Later that day I was really ready to give them a beating, and I would definitely have done it had they not punched each other… which was odd but unexpectedly effective because it earned me detention. (On a funny note, when I asked Mr Harris to go to the bathroom to go and find them, I heard Scott asking to go to the bathroom too, and for a fraction of a second I could only think ‘dude, you’re not being subtle. Anyone might think you wanted to make out with me’).

Of course, during detention Mr Harris would pair me with Allison ‘I can take care of myself with Chinese ring daggers’ Argent to do some mindless restocking of the janitor’s closet (which, by the way, I am sure that’s not something students should be doing). I, erm… I’m not proud of what happened then, because even if she stabbed me repeatedly, Allison did not actually deserve me wolfing out on her. But we were trapped in that very dark, tight and small closet and… I, well. I lost control. My fear turned to panic which turned to rage once my wolf took over. I don’t know what Scott would have done in that situation, but I was trapped, and the walls were closing in, and it was like being in that freezer again. Yet again, Scott saved my sorry arse (and Allison’s life) by pulling me out.

How could I ever be like Scott if my anger was stronger than my will? How could I really aspire to be a true friend of Scott’s if I could not control myself? I really needed to change things.

I have to admit that I was over the moon when Scott spent the rest of the day with me being his friendly self, all brown eyes and megawatt smiles. He might have wanted to keep an eye on me, just in case, but I did not mind. With him around everything seemed easier. Even when those two monozygotic morons turned up looking for trouble (oh, yeah, we messed with their bikes - lol) I felt that, with him, I could bring them down and punch their faces in. Evidently, we couldn’t (but that’s not the point).

After that, I spent the walk back to Derek’s loft mulling about what had happened, really considering if I would ever be able to get over my anger because it was defining me in a way that I was sure Scott would not approve of – and I did not want to disappoint Scott. I was so lost in thought that I hardly noticed Derek brooding in the corner until he told me to pack my stuff and leave. That I had not expected that is the understatement of the century. I tried to ask him why; I needed to know if I had done something wrong, suddenly feeling very guilty and not knowing why. I was ready to apologise and promise anything, but Derek insisted on me leaving at that very moment. He even threw a glass at me, the self-important bastard. He fucking _knew_ what my dad used to do, so there is no way in hell he did not do that on purpose, just to get to me.

At that moment I felt torn. My human side immediately regressed. I was a worthless waste of space; a lazy child who was a constant disappointment. No surprise my alpha didn’t want me around. But my inner wolf knew this was wrong. He was angry, and he really wanted to lash out and claw Derek’s insides out. _I_ really wanted to fight him, even if only for the satisfaction of getting a real answer as to why he did not want me living there. I was not a scared kid anymore; I was a _werewolf_. And Derek had crossed a line.

It was at that moment that my almost-forgotten mantra kicked me in the gut. _What would Scott do?_ Being angry was not the solution. Fighting alphas was not the solution. Scott, however, seemed to be a very sensible solution. So, thinking of Scott, I controlled my anger and walked away. I was defeated, humiliated, hurt, wet (it was pouring down in buckets, just so you know what a shithead Derek was), and I was angry. But I did not let my anger take over me. Not this time.

By the time I got to Scott’s house I decided that if I had controlled my anger once there was no reason why I could not do it again.

## 3\. Calm down

Living with Scott was… different? Definitely beats an old train depot. Having him around every day was amazing. And I will never ever thank Mrs McCall enough for allowing a random presumed delinquent and homeless teenager to stay with her son. I don’t know what would have become of me without him. Or without her. Without the McCalls in general. Not Mr McCall, though. He was very suspicious about me living in that house, but Scott told him to mind his own business and to stay away.

Anyway, while I lived with Scott, I think that Stiles got increasingly jealous because I got to spend a lot more time with Scott than he did. I admit that I relished that far more than I should have, but I was living with Scott McCall, and sleeping just a room away from him. Who would not be overexcited? I definitely was. I got to see Scott grumbling in his pyjamas in the mornings when his mom hurried us to go to school, and he was fucking adorable. I saw him calling his mom to help him with the laundry. I saw him falling asleep over his homework once. And every time I saw Scott in one of those unexpected domestic moments my heart throbbed, and my chest felt warm. I probably should not have developed that kind of feelings towards the werewolf who was fostering me, but I could not help myself, so sue me. I am sure that Scott knew, and while he did not ever give me any hints that we might have gone further, he did not turn me down either.

So, it was all a bit tense but cool, with a dose of teasing, and that was fun overall. I had always known that I liked boys, but I was not sure if Scott did. Finding out is always different for each person (and don’t worry, that would be a completely different story which I am not going to tell here – keep an eye open for _The Five Steps of Coming Out_ by Isaac Lahey). I could only guess Scott was still figuring things out. But there was no way on Earth that the way he cared for me was purely out of friendship – or at least not in my limited experience with friendships. I remember that one evening I dropped a plate when I was doing the dishes. It smashed into a hundred pieces and I froze in fear. I did not even dare kneel down to pick up the pieces, because something in the back of my mind was telling me that dad was going to be furious. Scott was there not a second later and, seeing the broken plate and my catatonic panic, he immediately pulled me into a hug and promised me that everything was going to be okay. He told me that I was safe – and I really felt it. There, in his arms, my nose breathing in his soothing scent, and his calming hands gently rubbing my back. That would forever on be my safe space.

This is why when a few nights later Scott tried to sneak out of the house with all the intent of having a chat with the alphas, I had to stop him before he did something stupid and get hurt. He was really surprised to see me blocking his door, and he tried to invent an excuse about being hungry and going out for Mexican food. Of course, I did not let him go out at night on his own. As I told him, I love Mexican, and that unbelievably sexy piece of Mexican ass was not going to get hurt – not on my watch.

I failed though. I tried my best, but that oversized boulder of a werewolf got him, and I could not help him. I pulled him alive from that three-way encounter with the alphas, but Scott was hurt, and it was my fault. And, to make things worse, Derek was dead.

That night I could not sleep at all. All I could hear was Scott groaning in pain in his room, and there was nothing I could do about it. There was also the hollow feeling I had in my chest because of Derek’s death. He had been a nasty, torturing prick, but he had saved me from my dad. In his own twisted and flawed way, he had been my alpha. I was not ready to become an alpha after Derek, but I could only assume Jackson of all people had become the alpha of the Hale pack (being, as he was, Derek’s first bitten beta). That made my blood boil, although not as much as it did make Boyd’s.

The morning after, Coach Finstock loaded us on a bus to go on some inane cross-country race far away in the middle of nowhere. Stiles took Scott with him (away from _me_ – grrr), so I sat with Boyd. One thing I’ll tell you, if I normally have anger issues, Boyd that day was seriously fuming. I never knew he had bonded with Derek that much, but then again, he had not kicked him out of his house in the rain.

To make things worse Ethan was there on the bus with us. I still though that killing him was the best solution, but Scott insisted that there was a different way (even if simply because fighting an alpha never worked), so Boyd and I brought it down a notch. But Scott was still not healing, and that made my anxiety go through the roof. Why had this happened? Why was Scott not healing? If Ennis had not been dead already, I would have found him and killed him myself for what he had done to Scott and Derek. But mostly to Scott.

I will not go into the disgusting details of how Stiles made this other guy in the team vomit all across three seats (and I am very sure there is a place in hell reserved for the Sheriff’s son because of that), but the point is that, once we were outside that cursed bus, Boyd and I found out that not only was Ennis alive, but also that Scott was not healing because he felt responsible for Derek’s death. No matter what Boyd said, I knew for a fact that somehow that was Ethan’s fault.

Okay, I knew that I was angry. I knew that I could control my anger. I knew I had to calm down, and I _could_ have. But I did not _want_ to. Scott was bleeding to death in a dirty service station. Stiles and Lydia would not let me go and see him. Ethan was there on the phone with his idiotic brother explaining all this. And he did not care about Scott in the slightest.

I let the red mist come down and I jumped at him.

 _God_ , that felt good. The first punch threw him on the floor, and then I grabbed his collar and pummelled him. Once. Twice. Thrice. My knuckles stinged, but I healed. His lip burst. His nose gave a satisfying crack and a torrent of blood poured out. I punched again. He fucking deserved every single one of those punches.

Then I heard Scott calling my name.

He looked at me with horror and disappointment, and I froze. I felt my stomach drop.

Danny pushed me away and pulled Ethan up, and I had to avoid Scott’s gaze, because it physically _hurt_ seeing Scott looking at me that way. I wanted to die there and then; there was no way that Scott would ever forgive me for that.

For better or for worse, the events of that evening changed _everything_ , and me punching Ethan’s lights out became the least of our worries.

## 4\. Find a way to solve the problem

That evening was a living nightmare. Apparently the darach (the evil druid responsible for all the shenanigans we were going through) had filled Coach’s whistle with wolfsbane, and because he is a whistle-happy maniac, we all must have breathed a bucket and a half of the stuff each. Yes, that was the reason (part of the reason) why I thought that clobbering Ethan was a great idea. But that was also the reason why Boyd felt like drowning himself for whatever happened to his sister, and the reason why Ethan tried to saw his chest open (pity Stiles stopped him, right?).

I never had it in me to go that far, not even through the worst days with my dad (and there is not going to be a story on that; I already feel I’ve shared enough). Maybe I’m a big coward. Scott tells me otherwise, but he’s biased because he’s my boyfriend and he has to tell me reassuring things like that. The point is, that when all the other werewolves were trying to tip themselves over I hid under the bed and Stiles had to burn my eyebrows to snap me out of it. At that time, Scott had doused himself in gasoline and was ready to erm… well. You get the picture. I was not there for him because I was scared shitless by my fucking traumatic past. What a big useless werewolf I was.

After Stiles, Lydia and Allison snapped us out of it, we all spent the night sleeping on the bus, which was uncomfortable enough. I don’t think any of us got any sleep except Stiles, because he has an incredible and unnatural capability to fall asleep in the most awkward postures. We were all too shaken, I think; just imagine that all I got from Scott that evening was a sad nod of acknowledgement. That was so not like him, and it broke my heart. In the morning I vowed to rip the darach’s face off (spoiler alert, her face had already been ripped off). Nobody does this shit to Scott and lives to tell the tale. They can mess with me all they want, but they better stay away from him.

Surprise, surprise, Derek was not dead, apparently, which was good on many levels (including Jackson not turning into an alpha), but Ethan told us that Deucalion was not going to let Derek live for much longer. And with that threat over our heads we found out that the darach was targeting healers, because our life is never easy. Scott panicked a lot when he found out, because the most awesome healer of Beacon Hills happened to be his mother. It was then that I had a chance to be the reassuring and comforting one, because Scott gives amazing hugs, but he also _deserves_ amazing hugs, and I can give those. So I pulled him in and told him we would keep a very close eye on his mom. I might have planted a soft kiss on his head, because I’m weak like that, but Scott did not seem to mind.

So, we went back home and set up camp at the feet of Mrs McCall’s bed, and she was not very impressed to see us asleep there in the morning. I might have been on watch last, true, but Scott was the one who should have woken up and… Anyway, nobody was killed in that house, so you don’t get to play the blame game. Scott didn’t. Melissa didn’t. We were all a happy family.

Of course, another healer very dear to Scott was Dr Deaton, who disappeared that very night. While Scott was busy trying to locate him, Boyd and I got _extremely_ sick, so we had to be sent home. How school administrators keep their jobs when half of the student body is constantly pulling these stunts is beyond me, but it gave us a chance to help Derek fight off the alphas. I was ready to charge out, claws blazing, but Boyd had a really clever idea (which was to flood the floor and fry the fuckers with electricity). Being angry was never a solution, but actively calming down to stop and think actually gave us an alternative plan. Scott had always been adamant in that philosophy (and it fell within my ‘What would Scott do?’ mantra), so what could possibly go wrong? Well, everything. That day, the alphas forced Derek to kill Boyd and I don’t think I will be ever able to forgive them (no matter how much those two twin bastards try to get in Scott’s good books).

The cruellest thing was that we did not have much time to mourn him, because we had four weeks before the next full moon which would mark the deadline Deucalion had set Derek to join him. Only he did not really want Derek– he wanted _Scott_. Apparently, his eyes had flashed red for a second, which meant that he could become an alpha. 

I know Scott was very distant and worried. He went to see Gerard to get the full story about Deucalion and his gang of murderers and he next asked me to keep an eye on his ex during my free period. Allison was trying to decide whether her dad was the evil druid (which he wasn’t), when we noticed the pattern on the map Mr Argent had been using. We warned Scott and Stiles, but then Allison drove us to an electric substation where we found our history teacher dead. We also found that Chris was not the evil druid. Of course, that caused a family row, because Allison and Chris had been doing things behind each other’s backs. I haven’t got a good record with family disputes, and my pulse was accelerating so I told them to stop and focus on the case at hand which was… actually the right thing to do? I calmed down, thought about what was happening, and came up with a solution that did not involve punching Chris!

I was so proud of myself, and I wanted to ring Scott and tell him, but the whole ritual sacrificing of teachers dampened my mood. That, and more people getting kidnapped.

## 5\. Be assertive

What has all this got to do with anger management? Don’t be impatient, we’re getting there.

That same evening we learnt that Ms Blake _was_ the evil druid (which was a bit of a shame, because she was kind of hot, in a sort of sexy teacher way?). She tried to kill Lydia, which was a big giveaway, and then went to Derek for help (oh yeah, all along, she had been banging him, which was so uncool), but Derek saw through her lies and forced her to confess. Apparently, she had pre-emptively poisoned Cora to force Derek to help her in her war of revenge against the alpha pack, but the timing was, predictably, shit. At that moment the hospital was being evacuated because of a freak storm (guess whose fault that was?), Peter was the only one with Cora, and I was still with Allison and her dad.

I still do not know how we concocted the plan in such a short time, but we all ended up in the hospital, exchanged all the necessary information, and prepared to evacuate Cora and Melissa while protecting Ms Blake _and_ fighting off the alphas. I became the designated driver, ready to floor the throttle the moment everyone was safe. But time passed, and the waiting got long and tense. I did not know what was going on, because all I could do was look into the phone.

Then Stiles and Peter appeared, and they brought Cora into the car. That was what I had been waiting for, except that Scott was not with them. Where was Scott? Why wasn’t he there? What had happened to him? The questions piled, and my heart ached at the thought of anything happening to him. And then Stiles buggered off leaving us behind? At first I thought he went to bring Scott back, but he didn’t; he just disappeared into the hospital. The plan was crumbling down, I didn’t know where Scott was, and was beginning to panic. Peter told me to get going, but I couldn’t just leave without him! I could not abandon Scott there, in a hospital full of murderous alphas _and_ an evil druid. My pulse accelerated. I needed to calm down, and focus on my ‘what would Scott do?’ mantra. I could not get angry at Peter, who was a douchebag but he was only trying to save Cora. I could not just lash out in frustration because that would not help; so I drove off, hating myself for abandoning my friend.

I felt even worse when I found out that Melissa and the Sheriff had been kidnapped by that two-faced (literally) treacherous bitch, and that Scott had gone off with Deucalion to plot hell knew what. Hindsight is a bitch, because there were so many things I could have done to stop all of those things…

At that moment, there was little I could actually do, though, so I took Cora to Derek’s place. When I got there, Derek was moping around, completely broken and incapable of any positive action. He just sat with his sister, trying to heal her (and failing), while Scott and Stiles and everyone else were out there looking for Ms Blake, who was, by the way, the one person who could help. Derek was really trying my patience with his apathy and resignation. He was really getting me angry, but I was getting better at controlling it. I still gave him a piece of my mind, not mincing my words (and, if I may say so, I did it quite poetically), but I stormed off before I could do something I would regret. That I count as a win.

Next I went to see Stiles and Allison, hoping to be helpful and not wanting to spend the night alone in the McCall house. At least they were proactive and were ready to beat the crap out of the alphas or whoever stood in our way to free the Sheriff and Melissa. Only problem was that when we got to the bank where we were meant to ambush the darach, Chris surrendered himself to her. He became the willing, third and last sacrifice, which is what Ms Blake needed to obtain sufficient power to get her revenge on the alpha pack. How fucked was that? _And_ he tased me unconscious. All this while Scott was at large, with Deucalion, and not answering to any of my embarrassingly needy texts.

Allison, Stiles and I ended up in the animal clinic with Dr Deaton, trying to figure out where the nemeton was. The nemeton was the sacred druidic tree that channelled the telluric currents, and it was where the secret Hale root cellar was (the same cellar where we had guessed the three parents had been taken). Dr Deaton suggested that we needed Scott to do a ritual that would reveal the location of the nemeton, but it appeared that this involved another near-death ice bath.

It was bad enough he had done that with me, but there was no way he was going to almost-kill Scott. No. Not then, not ever. And so I told him. When Scott walked in I was explaining to Deaton that there had to be a different way. I was really angry because his plan was madness. Absolute, padded-cell and straitjacket madness.

And then I had an idea.

Yes, I was getting angry, and my pulse and breathing were accelerating because he refused to consider other options, but when Scott entered it suddenly became clear. I growled to myself, took a deep breath, focused my thoughts and assertively suggested an alternative plan. Not only that, but I explained it and fully convinced them that it was a much better option. There was a tense second after I told my plan while Scott looked at his boss, who looked at Lydia, who looked back at him with her face of mild-disgust. And then Dr Deaton said that it was worth a try.

Last time we needed to search for lost memories (which was when yours truly was saved from the alpha pack by Braeden) the first thing we did was allow Peter to sink his claws in my neck to look through my memories. If the nemeton was hidden in the preserve and it was a Beacon of the supernatural, there was a chance that either Scott or I had seen it before without noticing. It followed, according to my plan, that maybe Scott and I could search through our memories before committing to an ice bath.

Stiles and Lydia were baffled, and I don’t blame them, because it was kind of a brainy answer and I’m not brainy smart myself, but I was desperate smart and in full survival mode, and adamant that nobody was going to near-kill Scott if I could help it. So Deaton said that it was worth a try, because it involved a fractionally smaller risk than the ice-bath ritual.

We called Peter over, because Deaton knew the theory but did not want to risk it in the practice. Deaton prepared two chairs for us, and Scott and I sat opposite to each other. Meanwhile, Allison, Lydia and Stiles stood in a circle around us, ready to taser Peter into submission if he dared to snort suspiciously.

I looked into Scott’s eyes, so brown and soft, and so full of fear and hope, and they glowed yellow. I felt my eyes glow yellow in response, and a giddy smile forming on my face. Peter said something tasteless about gross teenagers and Allison zapped him for good measure. Deaton took our hands and placed them behind our necks, so I had my right hand behind Scott’s head and my left on his knee. While Peter positioned our claws in the right spot and Deaton gave us some instructions, I gently squeezed Scott’s knee and rubbed my thumb on his trousers. He smiled back at me and, with a quick nod of agreement, we sunk our claws.

Deaton and Lydia kept calling our names, trying to give us a focus, but I immediately got lost in Scott’s thoughts. I saw how he viewed his dad, and I saw his relationship with his mother. I saw his friendship with Stiles and his love for Allison. I also saw his admiration towards Deaton, and I could sense his pure determination to keep the people he loved safe. But I did not want to be distracted by that and I tried to focus on the preserve, where he saved me from the twins, where he saw Derek kill Peter, and where he was bitten. And I saw it: an old hidden stump that glowed with power. That _had_ to be the nemeton.

Lydia yelled and I snapped awake. I focused my eyes and could only see Scott looking at me with unprecedented curiosity, and he was blushing. I may not be a genius, but I am not slow, and I could only imagine that Scott had realised what I felt for him. I never wanted to hide it, but there are better ways of finding out… Anyways, it was too late now, but it did not matter, because we knew where the nemeton was.

## 6\. Reminder: your anger is part of you

Just before the eclipse we set forth to carry out Scott’s plan. He went with Derek to the old distillery to wait for Ms Blake and Deucalion while Allison, Stiles and I went to the nemeton. We knew where it was, but it was not easy to get there, Ms Blake had conjured some sort of Storm that tried to keep us away, and we felt an earthquake rumbling underfoot. It took all of our will and strength to navigate through the preserve until we found the cellar and the stump.

Stiles and Allison threw themselves onto their respective parents, and I went to free Melissa, who gave me a hug that left me no doubt as to where Scott had learnt to give such amazing hugs. Only at that precise moment the earthquake got worse and the entrance to the cellar collapsed. The ceiling began to cave in, and the main beam snapped.

Again, I was trapped in a small, dark and musty place, but this time it was getting smaller and smaller by the second. I felt panic creeping into me, but I could not let it win. Not this time. I felt a ball forming in my throat and my eyes began to glow yellow, but I stood up and held the breaking beam on my shoulders. The pressure from the ceiling increased, the walls collapsed and the air was full of dust. Every single nightmare I’ve had in my life about being in the freezer returned to me with the strength of a freight train. But I could not budge. I had to be strong and not let panic take over. I knew I was angry, I knew I could control it, I had calmed down and I knew how I could sort this. My anger was part of me, but it did not have to control me, and it didn’t have to turn violent. I could use my anger in a different way, like against that fucking collapsing beam that threatened to bury us all.

I naturally focused on Scott, who had become my anchor, and who had unwillingly forced me to improve, who had become my example and the focus of my life (yeah, corny, I know, but it’s true). So I thought about Scott, focused on doing this for him (focused on using the anger for something productive, for a change), and I heaved.

The beam groaned. Stiles, Allison and the three parents crowded around me as the cellar collapsed around them. With all five of them crowding around me, it was getting really uncomfortable down there. I was sweating like a pig, but I needed to be strong and calm. I felt Melissa whimpering and Stiles hugging his father. A sense of defeat fuelled my already choking panic, but I could not give up. I got angrier, but good-angrier, _because I had to_. The beam split in half and forced me down to my knees. A cloud of dirt and dust fell on us, making us cough and my eyes cry. Then it all stopped.

I’m not really sure how long we were buried in there after the earthquake stopped. It was not more than an hour, but it sure felt like ages. I mean, we were still in a tiny underground space, so I am not ashamed to admit that I cried into Melissa’s shoulder until we were rescued.

Derek pulled me out and I was so relieved to be outside that I gave _him_ a hug. In the corner of my eye I caught Scott running straight to see his mother, which was expected, but he surprised me and everyone else when he then came to me and pulled me in for a kiss. Kid you not, it was like a movie. He pulled me in and surprised me with a kiss, then he babbled a lot about how he felt, and how he had felt when he sensed how I felt, and that he was now an alpha. He flashed his new red eyes with his big dopey smile and then it was me who pulled him in for a needy and very clumsy kiss which Scott was quick to return. Stiles told us to get a room. I flicked him.

And that’s it, really. We went home after that to process what had just happened. Deaton called me to congratulate me on my quick thinking and said something about denying power to the nemeton, which I did not understand but that he seemed very pleased about. Stiles came around to Scott’s house and tried to give me a shovel talk with his baseball bat. Lydia sent me a text saying that she knew all along, and even Danny rang Scott when he found out about us.

And that was my anger story! I once told Stiles that I was not good at writing, but I was angry then, and high on werewolf power, so I’ll let you judge if I was right. The fact that I needed to add a last step to the five shows that my five-step program was, after all, just a lame Google search, but I’ll be happy if anyone reading this has learnt a hint or two. Even if it is that you can live with your anger and that you just have to find a way of anchoring and reining it.

I’ve got to go now, because Scott is shouting at me to get ready (although I bet that I’ll get downstairs and he won’t even have his shoes on). Apparently now that we’re both out and proud Danny wants to take us for a double date with him and Ethan. That is going to be _interesting_. Scott could not say no, because he’s always had a soft spot for Danny, and I think I can apologise to him for punching his boyfriend, but Ethan? I’m still furious, and I will never forget what he’s done, but I trust Scott, and if he’s with me I will try to be civil towards murdering bastard number two. The guy nearly died, and he had it coming (and I’m not being petty, thank you very much), so maybe that’s a start. Maybe he has changed? I sure did.

**Author's Note:**

> So this was my first ever contribution to a Scisaac Week! I have two (maybe three) other stories planned, so I'm quite excited about all this.
> 
> This first fic was a bit of an exercise and an experiment, because I had never written in first person and had never done a thorough re-interpretation of a season. It also shows that I can't write short stories.


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